The Runaway Actress

by Connelly, Victoria

  Oh God! How embarrassing would that be? She shook her head, trying to free herself of the stern face of Euan Kennedy. She was just being silly. He probably just wanted to talk about her films and have her autograph a DVD or something. Or maybe tell her about his conversation with Colin Simpkins just to keep her in the picture.

  The bright sky of the morning was beginning to darken now and it looked as if it might rain. Connie looked up at the clouds and thought how beautiful they were. She’d place a bet that her mother would have hated the sight of clouds. She’d always told Connie about the dreadful Scottish weather.

  ‘Rain, rain and more rain,’ she’d say.

  But that’s what keeps it so lush, Connie thought, looking at the glorious tapestry of green mountains. Sure, it was a lot cooler than California but Connie was getting used to that. It was nice to snuggle into warm clothes and she loved her new hiking boots; they were far more comfortable than high heels.

  With thoughts of woolly jumpers filling her head, Connie found Euan’s cottage. It was pretty much like the others in Lochnabrae – a two-storey whitewashed house looking out over the loch. Dark red curtains hung in the downstairs windows and there was something wilting in a terracotta pot by the doorstep.

  It was then that Connie realised how little she knew about Euan. Had he ever been married? Perhaps he was a widower? Maybe she’d find out, she thought, as she knocked on the door.

  When it was opened, she noticed that his frame completely filled the space.

  ‘Ah, Connie,’ he said. ‘Come in, lass.’

  ‘Hi, Euan,’ she said, smiling in an attempt to win him over just in case he was about to scold her for the night before.

  They walked through to the sitting room at the front of the house. It was small and sparsely furnished but comfortable. One wall was almost completely lined with books and Connie gravitated towards it.

  ‘Wow,’ she said. ‘That’s quite a collection.’ Her head tilted as she read the spines.

  ‘They’re mostly wildlife books,’ Euan said.

  ‘For your job as a ranger?’ Connie asked.

  ‘Mostly,’ he said.

  ‘I’d like to know more about wildlife. About everything really. All I know about is my job. Isn’t that boring?’

  ‘No more than most people. We all do what we can to survive.’

  Connie smiled. ‘But there’s so much more to know,’ she said, her eyes scanning the rows of books. ‘Like—’ she paused, ‘grouse. I don’t know anything about grouse.’

  ‘You want to learn about grouse?’

  Connie nodded. ‘Why not? They sound – fun!’

  Euan gave a little smile. ‘Connie,’ he said.

  ‘Uh-huh?’

  ‘Do you want a cup of tea?’

  ‘Sure,’ she said. ‘Better make it black, no sugar. I’ve been overdosing on this rich Highland cream and it’s gone straight to my waist.’

  Euan disappeared and Connie looked around the rest of the room. There was a row of photo frames on the mantelpiece above the fire and Connie went to look at them. There were several of Euan with a young boy. One of them fishing. One of them halfway up a mountain. Another of them coming out of a cave.

  ‘Who’s this?’ she asked as Euan came back into the room with two cups of tea that he placed on a small table.

  ‘That’s Jamie,’ he said. ‘My sister’s boy.’

  ‘You spend a lot of time together?’

  ‘Aye,’ he said. ‘His father died when he was small. He comes here from time to time.’

  ‘That’s nice,’ Connie said. ‘And what’s this?’ she asked, her eyes attracted by a small wooden shield hanging on the wall with the name ‘Kennedy’ emblazoned across the top.

  ‘Oh, that’s the clan crest badge,’ Euan said.

  Connie looked closely at the shield decorated with a round metal crest containing what looked like a mythical dolphin. It was set against a fabulous tartan that was predominantly green with stripes of vivid blue, red and yellow crisscrossing it.

  ‘Wow!’ she said as the colours danced before her eyes. ‘That’s really beautiful.’

  ‘Aye,’ Euan said.

  ‘Avise La Fin,’ Connie said, reading the inscription on the crest. ‘What’s that mean?’

  ‘Consider the end,’ Euan said. ‘That’s the clan motto.’

  ‘Consider the end,’ Connie repeated. ‘I like it. And not many of us do, do we? We just bulldoze our way through life, not really thinking about the consequences.’

  Euan cleared his throat and Connie looked at him.

  ‘You okay?’ she asked. He nodded and Connie looked back at the crest. ‘What exactly is a clan?’ Connie asked.

  ‘A clan? Well, it’s a family, united by a common ancestor. There’s a tradition that clan members take care of each other – defend their heritage – that sort of thing.’

  ‘That’s nice,’ Connie said with a smile. ‘I should like to have a clan.’

  ‘You do,’ Euan said.

  ‘You mean the Gordons?’

  ‘Connie,’ he said, ‘will you no’ sit down?’

  Connie looked at him and saw that there was something urgent behind his eyes.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked. ‘Is everything okay?’ She suddenly became nervous. What if he was going to tell her something awful? Maybe it was something about Alastair. Maybe Alastair was dying. Or worse – married.

  Connie sat down and Euan took the chair opposite her. ‘I haven’t been completely honest with you, Connie,’ he said.

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About Vanessa,’ he said.

  ‘My mother?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘You knew her?’

  ‘Well, everybody knows everybody in a place like this.’

  ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I wondered if you’d known her. I mean, you’re about the same age, aren’t you?’

  Euan nodded. ‘We were at school together. Grew up together.’

  Connie smiled. ‘She’s never mentioned you. Mind you, she hardly ever talked about the people of Lochnabrae. There’s so much I want to know.’

  ‘Aye, well, maybe I can help you there,’ Euan said.

  ‘Really?’ Connie said. ‘That’s great! So, tell me more about my mother. What was she like when she was at school? And why did she want to leave Lochnabrae so badly?’

  Euan shifted in his chair and cleared his throat. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I think I might’ve been the reason she left Lochnabrae.’

  ‘Really?’ Connie said, frowning, and then something dawned on her. ‘Oh!’ She gave a little laugh as her mother’s past suddenly became a little clearer. ‘You mean – you two were—’

  ‘Connie, lass,’ Euan interrupted, ‘I’m your father.’

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Alastair was watching Sara from the kitchen door as she turned a few meagre ingredients from his cupboards into something appetising for lunch. She was wearing her nightie having taken a walk and showered late and her blonde hair clung damply to her face.

  ‘You never used to cook before,’ he said.

  She turned around and smiled at him. ‘I told you – there’ve been a lot of changes since—’ She didn’t finish her sentence.

  Alastair nodded. ‘That’s good.’

  ‘I feel like a brand new person,’ she said, ‘and I want to make the most of life, I really do. Natalie’s been brilliant. She enrolled me on this cookery course and I’m thinking of doing it professionally.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Don’t laugh!’

  ‘I’m not laughing. I think it’s brilliant. Your sister always did know what was best for you.’ There was a pause. ‘So, you’re not acting any more?’

  Sara turned to face him. ‘You’re not writing plays any more?’

  ‘Right,’ he said.

  ‘I think that time is over, don’t you?’

  He nodded. ‘Listen, Sara – I’m sorry I didn’t do more to help you. I really wante
d to but I didn’t know what to do.’

  Sara put down the frying pan and turned to face him. ‘You did everything you could,’ she said. ‘You were the one who found me, remember? You saved my life! And you stayed with me too – far longer than anyone should have expected you to – but I had to do the rest by myself. You’ve got nothing to blame yourself for. You know that, don’t you?’

  Alastair looked down at the kitchen floor.

  ‘Alastair?’ She moved towards him and planted a kiss on his cheek. ‘I’m so sorry for what I put you through. I can’t seem to say it enough.’

  He looked down at her and then took her in his arms and hugged her. The emotion took him so completely by surprise and it felt good but not like when he’d held Connie on the beach by the loch. It was different between him and Sara now. He would always love her in a special kind of way – rather like a brother might love a sister. He would always care desperately about her and want to know that she was okay no matter how many miles separated them.

  ‘I never meant to come up here and fight with you,’ Sara added, ‘but I did want to talk and try to explain things.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘And—’ she paused.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I was kind of hoping I could win you back.’ She looked up at him, her eyes wide and appealing but then she sighed. ‘But I can see that’s not going to happen, is it?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

  ‘I’m too late, aren’t I? I think you’ve already lost your heart to somebody else? Who is it? Some cute little Scottish lass?’

  Alastair smiled. ‘Something like that.’

  ‘Well, that’s good,’ Sara said with a smile but her face was edged with sadness. ‘Then, you don’t mind?’

  ‘Mind what?’

  ‘Me coming here.’

  ‘I don’t mind,’ he said. ‘It’s been good to see you again.’

  They looked at one another and smiled.

  ‘I’m so glad I came.’

  ‘Me too.’

  She took a deep breath. ‘Come on, let’s have this food before it gets cold.’

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  After Connie had left the shop and Maggie had dealt with Angus – telling him bluntly that she was not about to divulge what happened on the beach between Connie and Alastair and that he should mind his own business – she returned upstairs and stood in front of the mirror. What she saw was a vast improvement on how she’d looked before Connie’s intervention. Her hair was in better condition and no longer looked like a woolly jumper, her figure looked womanly in the new clothes they’d chosen together and her face had certainly benefited from the tinted moisturiser, which had helped to tame her wind-blasted complexion. So why did she still feel so shy about approaching Mikey? Why hadn’t the make-over given her the confidence she so desperately needed? But she knew the answer to that. You couldn’t buy confidence from a catalogue or order it online; it had to come from you.

  She looked at herself and tried to see her as Mikey might. Had he noticed the new-look Maggie and would it make any difference to him if he had? Or would he just see the old Maggie? Hamish’s little sister who sold shortbread?

  Maggie took a deep breath and let it out slowly. There was only one way to find out and that was to confront him.

  ‘Right now,’ she said, running downstairs and shutting up the shop before she lost her nerve.

  Just as she was leaving, she spotted Mrs Wallace heading up the road.

  ‘Margaret Hamill!’ she called. ‘Surely you’re not closing at this time of the morning, are you? I need a pint of milk.’

  ‘Come back this afternoon!’ Maggie called, laughing to herself as she saw the expression on the old bat’s face. ‘There are more important things than a pint of milk,’ she added, making a quick getaway before she could hear her reply.

  As Maggie drove into Strathcorrie, she swore she could feel her heart knocking against her ribs. Her whole system seemed to be flooded with adrenalin as if she was about to give a speech before hundreds of people rather than talking to an old friend, but that was because he was more than an old friend. Michael Shire was a god. The sexiest thing ever to have been seen in a kilt, Maggie thought, remembering the outfit he’d worn at his older brother’s wedding and how her own knees had weakened at the sight of his.

  Parking her car in the main square, Maggie walked towards Dougie’s Autos where Mikey and Hamish worked. She could hear someone banging from underneath a car but couldn’t make out who it was so stood waiting until the person emerged.

  It was then that the phone from the garage office began to ring.

  ‘Bugger!’ a voice said. It was Mikey and Maggie watched as he crawled out and stood up to full height. He hadn’t spotted her and she watched as he wiped his grimy hands on his jeans before answering the phone. She’d never known anyone who could make grease look so sexy. His dark hair hung in waves around his tanned face and his bright eyes were narrowed in concentration. He was wearing a dark green T-shirt that was edging towards black and the cut of the sleeves showed his arms off to perfection. Maggie had always had a thing about men’s arms. There were some women who went on about a man’s bum being the thing but, for Maggie, it was always the arms – good, strong, lean arms that could wrap around you and pull you into a warm embrace.

  Just as she felt her face heating up like a furnace, Mikey came off the phone and spotted her.

  ‘Are you all right, our Maggie?’ he said. ‘What a nice surprise. You shopping?’

  ‘No,’ she said.

  ‘You okay? You look a bit red,’ he said, examining her face.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said.

  ‘Come to see Hamish? He’s just scooted off to the shop to get us some supplies. He’ll be back in a mo.’

  Maggie took a deep breath. ‘I didn’t come to see Hamish,’ she said. ‘I came to see you.’

  Connie marched up the hill towards Alastair’s, her mind a whirlwind. She hadn’t stopped to give herself time to think. She’d just upped and left without saying very much at all to poor Euan after his revelation.

  ‘Oh God!’ she cried into the sky, thinking of how she’d just sat there on his sofa as Euan had tried to explain what had happened that summer before her mother had left Lochnabrae.

  ‘Vanessa was never happy here,’ Euan said. ‘Some people get like that. Most are content with their way of life here – can’t think of any other way – but your mother wasn’t one of them. Always dreaming, she was. Always talking of going to Hollywood and becoming an actress.’

  Connie had listened, wondering – dreading – where this story was going to end.

  ‘That last summer was crazy,’ Euan told her. ‘All she went on about was getting away. She drove me mad. I kept telling her she couldn’t go – that I didn’t want her to go and she’d just laugh. I have to go, she told me. You can’t keep me here.

  ‘I began to notice she was acting strangely. She’d lost a little of that mad sparkle of hers. So, I confronted her one day,’ he said, stopping to rub his chin thoughtfully. ‘She didn’t tell me, of course, but I had my suspicions.

  ‘And then, one day, she wasn’t here any more. She’d left without even saying goodbye. The first I knew about it was a postcard from LA.’

  Euan got up and opened a chest drawer, handing Connie a bright card featuring the famous Hollywood sign. She turned it over and read the message, acknowledging that it was, indeed, her mother’s writing.

  I told you I’d make it! Found a place to stay and have auditions next week! You wouldn’t believe the weather out here. Beats Lochnabrae! V x

  That was it. Four brief sentences that gave very little away.

  ‘There was a second card,’ Euan said, pulling it out of the drawer. ‘Seven months later.’

  He handed it to Connie.

  You have a daughter. I’ve named her Constance after my grandma. Please don’t try and find us. Making a new life here. V x

  ‘I did try to find
her, of course,’ Euan said, ‘but people get swallowed up in a place like Hollywood and she changed her name for a while so, when I asked around agencies, nobody had heard of Vanessa Gordon.’

  ‘But my father?’ Connie said, thinking of the man she’d thought was her true father all these years.

  ‘She met him shortly after moving out there. They got married pretty quickly and I guess he must have known he wasn’t your real father. I know this is a lot to take in, lass,’ Euan said. ‘I still can’t believe it myself. But, seeing you here – getting to know you – I can believe it.’

  Connie had stood up at that point.

  ‘Connie?’ he’d said. ‘Will you no’ stay a wee while?’

  She hadn’t said anything. She’d simply fled and the only place she could think to flee to was Alastair’s.

  Reaching his cottage, she knocked on the door with an impatient fist, causing Bounce to bark from inside.

  ‘Alastair?’ she called, opening his door after remembering that he’d said that he never locked it. ‘Are you there?’

  ‘Connie?’

  His voice was coming from the kitchen and Connie went through but she stopped dead when she saw he had company. It wasn’t just any company either. It was a pretty blonde woman in a nightdress – her hair damp from a recent shower.

  ‘Hello,’ the woman said, turning around to address Connie. ‘I’m Sara. Who are you?’

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Mikey wiped his hands on an old rag and faced Maggie. ‘Do you want a cup of tea?’

  ‘No,’ Maggie said.

  ‘So, how can I be of service?’

  A thousand wicked thoughts raced through her mind of just how Mikey could be of service to her but she tried to shake them.

  ‘Well, there’s something I’ve been meaning to say to you.’

  ‘Oh, aye?’

  Maggie nodded. ‘Only I didn’t know how.’

  Just then, Hamish appeared with a jar of coffee in one hand and a packet of ginger snaps in the other.

  ‘Mags!’ he said.

  Maggie turned and glared at him. Hamish stared at her as if weighing up the situation and then his eyes suddenly widened in understanding.